Chapter Text
“This,” Bart announced, hands on his hips in the middle of what might generously be described as a kitchen, “is officially moded.”
Jaime sighed, turning away from the raging swirls of white outside the window. “Hermano, we fell out of an exploding plane flying over the middle of nowhere and landed right into a blizzard. Just be grateful we found a cabin, let alone an empty one.”
“Not that—this! ” With a swift breeze of indistinguishable movement, Bart had all the kitchen cabinet doors flung open, revealing an impressive amount of...absolutely nothing. “Not even one bag of old junk food, Blue!” Bart spread his arms wide in despair. “Zip, zilch, nada! Seriously, what kind of shelter is this?”
The armor around Jaime’s face retracted as he stepped closer to one of the cabinets. Rubbing the back of his sore neck, he glowered into it, as if staring long enough might somehow make food appear.
“Great.” He poked the cabinet door closed.
“Think there’s a storage cellar?” Bart asked.
“Worth a look.” Jaime shrugged. “How’s your—” a whoosh of wind ruffled Jaime’s hair. Jaime stared flatly at the spot where Bart had vanished. “...arm.”
“Hm?” Bart’s voice appeared behind him. Jaime turned, Bart’s head poking out of a trap door in the floor. “Oh, it’s all crash. Already forgot about it. Look!” He thrust the arm in question out of the hole with a triumphant smile, a jar of preserves in his hand. Guess that was a yes to the storage cellar. “There’s gotta be at least two months worth of food down here!”
“Crash,” Jaime smiled at him. “So what am I gonna eat?”
“Ha, ha,” Bart climbed out of the hole, putting the jar on the counter. “I still have three protein bars on me, thanks very much!”
“Oh, well that changes things,” Jaime said. “So, two jars for me and the rest for you?”
“Now you’re getting it!” Bart elbowed Jaime’s ribs with a grin. Jaime shook his head.
“Well, like I said before, it’s a miracle we found this place at all, so I can’t complain too loudly.”
“Mm, not loudly, but maybe frequently,” Bart said, thrusting a finger up for emphasis, “because you know what I was going to do tonight, Blue?”
“Watch the newest episode of Space Trek?”
“And now do you know what I’m gonna do tonight?”
“Not watch the newest episode of Space Trek?”
“Exactly Blue buddy, buddy-mine. Ex-act-ly.” Bart heaved a sigh, letting his head fall back as he paused in his attempt to open the jar he was holding. “M-o-d-e-d.”
Jaime leaned his back against the counter next to Bart with crossed arms. “On the bright side, no homework.”
“Yeah—” Bart grunted, struggling with the lid. “Always an—opendamnitcomeon—silver lining I guess.”
Jaime held a hand out, brow raised. Bart looked askance at him, glared once more at the jar, then passed it over begrudgingly. Jaime transformed his other hand into a blade and pried it loose, then passed it back with a nudge. “Gotta work on that arm strength, flacucho.”
Bart scoffed. “I loosened it for you. Also, you cheated.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to make you look bad,” Jaime teased, poking Bart’s bicep. Bart scoffed again, batting him away.
“Listen, you.” He pointed, shoving his other hand on his hip. “I don’t have to stick around for this kind of slander. I have better things to do. Very, super important things. Like lighting a fire in that fireplace over there. I don’t see you doing that, now are you, Mr. Strong Guy?”
Jaime bit back a laugh. “You do that, chiquito.”
“I will,” Bart huffed, tilting his nose up and zipping away (presumably) to go look for the cabin’s supply of dry wood and kindling.
Jaime shook his head again, his smile fading as he took one last glance around their...rustic surroundings.
The cabin was small, most of its footprint taken up by a sparsely furnished living area. The brick fireplace where Bart was now crouched took up a large chunk of one wall. Facing the fireplace was a threadbare, moss green couch that looked more like it belonged in a disheveled frat house than a cozy winter cabin. Beside the couch was a spindly end table that served both it and a dark leather armchair, its surface bare but for two square, dusty coasters. The other two coasters in the set were tucked into two corners of a squat, sturdy-looking coffee table, its dusty wooden surface equally bare.
He would have expected a place like this to be decorated with at least one creepy animal head, or rifle, or something mounted on the wall. Instead, there was nothing but a framed map above the fireplace and hooks by the door to hang up coats, almost as if the owners had abandoned the whole endeavor soon after the cabin had been completed. It didn’t even smell that musty despite its current state, possibly masked by the piney scent of the wood and the sharpness of the cold winter air.
The kitchen where Jaime stood was squashed into one corner along the back wall and, like the living room, the same could be said of its decorations. Other than a set of knives and a couple of pot holders, there was next to nothing around him and only a handful of random items in the drawers. The one place to eat, as far as he could see, was a dining table barely big enough for the two rickety chairs on either side of it, to the right of the back door.
He glanced down the short hallway toward the last room he hadn’t checked yet, which Bart said was a single bedroom with a bathroom attached. He wasn’t eager to take stock of that, some small part of him hoping they’d be saved before they even had to worry about it. Even with Khaji keeping him warm and Bart being a human space-heater, he doubted whatever bed was in there would be giving them anything close to a good night’s rest. They also hadn’t tried the running water, afraid to let reality ruin the slim possibility of a hot shower.
As a last ditch effort, Jaime tried his communicator one more time. Same as before, he got nothing but static in answer. He swallowed, beating back the tendril of anxiety trying to worm its way into his chest.
They were fine. They had shelter, and food, and no serious injuries to worry about. They’d gotten themselves into far more trouble than this before, and they were superheroes. It would be fine.
“Ta da!” Bart sang, arms outstretched as flames crackled to life in the fireplace, bringing out the red in Bart’s mission-mussed hair. Jaime took a deep breath in and let it out slow.
Silver linings...right. If he had to be stranded with someone, at least he’d ended up with Bart.
+
“Stop looking so worried,” Bart chided, sitting with one leg slung over the side of the armchair and plowing through one of his speedster-grade protein bars. “I told you, there’s plenty of food. I’ll be fine.”
“That assessment is false,” Khaji Da refuted. “The Bart Allen requires ten thousand calories per day in order to operate at full capacity. Accounting for the supplemental nutritional bars, unless you are rescued within the next two days, the Bart Allen’s speed and healing factor will be affected.”
“Khaji says you're full of it,” Jaime shot back from his spot on the floor by the hearth. “And you’re talking with your mouth full again.”
Bart covered his mouth with his palm and finished chewing.
“I mean,” Bart smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, “I could have that candy bar you were saving in your hoodie pocket, if you really feel that bad about it.”
Jaime leveled an unimpressed look at him. Bart nudged Jaime’s shoulder with his foot.
“Hey, the storm will pass or the Team will find us in no time, okay? I’ve had it worse. Don’t get so hung up on it.”
Jaime swallowed and said nothing, pretending to turn his attention back to the fire.
I’ve had it worse. In the future, he meant. Bart didn’t like to talk about it much, but come on, it was the apocalypse. Wasn’t hard to make the assumption that food wouldn’t have been easy to come by, especially for a speedster. Did he really think that’d make Jaime feel anything but more bad about it?
His thoughts must have been evident on his face because Bart huffed and joined him on the floor.
“It’s not actually your job to keep me fed, you know. I’m just a master at bullying you into it,” Bart joked, poking Jaime’s cheek. Jaime frowned back at him.
“No, but it is my job to keep you alive,” Jaime said. “We’re partners. That’s the deal.”
Bart glanced away, the heat of the fire bringing a flush to Bart’s cheeks. That was another part of Bart’s speedster metabolism: he always ran hot. As far as Jaime was concerned, the sign only further cemented his point.
“I’m not gonna keel over on you, Jaime,” he said exasperatedly. “I mean come on, even without my speed I run faster than you. Besides, you really think I’m gonna go run in that anytime soon?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the window, the blizzard still howling away.
“You might not have a choice,” Jaime argued. “Unless we find a way to contact the Team, we might have to venture out there and see if there’s civilization nearby. We can’t sit here forever.”
“Two days isn’t forever,” Bart said. Jaime blinked in surprise. He hadn’t thought he’d said that part out loud. Bart laughed at him. “So little faith in me. I can do math, you jerk. Really well, in fact! Which you ought to know by now, considering how often I’m helping you with your calc homework.”
“I’m more surprised you know the number of calories in all that food off the top of your head,” Jaime admitted.
“‘Course I do,” Bart said sagely. “I am crashtastic at eating. Eating and math.”
Jaime smiled at that, despite himself. Bart grinned triumphantly back.
Shaking his head in defeat, Jaime slung an arm around Bart’s neck, squashing him roughly into a side hug. “Alright, just don’t lie if it starts to get bad. ¿Comprendes?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bart wriggled into a more comfortable position, leaning into Jaime’s side. “Seriously though, if you’re not gonna eat that candy bar...”
Jaime unhooked his arm and shoved Bart away with a laugh.
+
“You really telling me you know how to dewinterize a house?” Jaime crossed his arms, skeptical.
“Pfft,” Bart waved a hand dismissively. “All I have to do is open the taps and reconnect the power, how hard could it be?”
“Yeah, two words, ese,” Jaime counted them off on his fingers. “Burst. Pipes.”
“Only if they’re frozen,” Bart argued. “Which, if the people who own the place did things right, they won’t be!”
“We could still end up flooding the place by accident,” Jaime said. “And even if we do it right, I don’t know how to reverse it so that it’s re-winterized again.”
“Who cares about that?” Bart scoffed. “The League will cover the expenses if we break anything or rack up their utility bills or whatever.”
“It’s still rude,” Jaime said. Bart's lips tugged up.
“Blue, buddy, it’s a survival situation,” Bart gestured to the blizzard. “I don’t think the owners will care, if they ever even come back.”
Jaime flushed a little but opened his mouth to keep arguing anyway.
“—Also,” Bart cut him off. “Do you really want to have to pee outside in that? Because no running water means no indoor plumbing, which trust me is not crash.”
“It’s two days,” Jaime said stubbornly. Bart shot a flat look at him. “Look, if we’re stuck here longer than that for some reason, then fine. We can give it a try. If not though, I’d rather leave this place the same way we found it. Fair?”
“O -kay,” Bart held up his hands. “But don’t come crying to me when you have to freeze your tushy off just to take a—”
“I get it,” Jaime groaned. “Don’t be gross.”
Bart shrugged. “Hey, these are the things you have to think about when you’re out in ~the wild~” he spread his arms open wide, wiggling his fingers ominously. Jaime rolled his eyes.
“I’d rather you put your brainpower towards fixing our comms situation, ¿sabes?” Jaime poked Bart’s forehead.
“Valid point,” Bart allowed, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. “I wonder if they have a radio I could tinker with. I might be able to hook one of our comms up to get a better signal somehow.”
“If the heroes are within range, projecting the correct frequency via sonic attack could attract their attention,” Khaji added.
“If you could, then Khaji says we could use the sonic cannon as a distress signal on top of that, once we think the Team is close enough by to pick up on it.”
Bart grinned. “Sounds crash. And hey, if not, then Khaji could track down the plane’s black box right? Even if we can’t wait there for long, we might be able to at least leave a note for them to come find us here.”
“If we can even find our way back after,” Jaime said. “It’s not a bad idea, but let’s maybe not try to do that in the dark, sí?
Bart shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Hanging by a warm fire? Crash. Stakeout in a blizzard? Less crash.”
Jaime sighed, rubbing his neck again. “Yeah, seconded. Plus, I’m wiped. We should see if there’s enough extra bottled water to clean you up with and then get some shut eye while we can.”
“Hey!” Bart put his hands on his hips. “Why just me?”
“Well both of us, but I’m not the one who’s got blood blending into my hair.” Jaime pointed out, rubbing a chunk of the matted strands between his armored fingers. Bart shrugged, ears red.
“Hey, at least it’s not my blood,” he said, then paused. “Uh, is it?”
“Yeah, no,” Jaime agreed hurriedly. “Don’t worry, Khaji already checked.”
+
Jaime rapped on the bathroom door with impatience.
“Bart, vamonos! It’s late.”
“I’m going, yeesh. Stop mom-ing me.”
Jaime leaned his back against the doorframe. Ay por dios. He swore Bart was worse than his sister sometimes. What was there to even do in there? It never took Bart more than three seconds to do anything.
When Bart did emerge, dressed down to the one-piece black undersuit with his KF uniform hanging over his arm, his hair was sopping. At least, for all of three seconds before he started shaking his head and sent all the water droplets flying into Jaime’s face.
“Dude!” Jaime threw an arm up in defense. Bart laughed and speedster-squeezed him.
“Night, Blue!”
In the next breath, Bart scooped up a blanket and pillow from the bed and disappeared. Jaime stared out the open door in confusion, then followed him out.
Bart had dumped the bedding on one side of the couch and was crouched down to prod a bit more at the fire. Jaime walked up next to him.
“What are you doing?”
“Just double checking it,” Bart said, straightening up. “It should burn long enough to keep us warm as we’re falling asleep, but still.”
“Not that,” Jaime dismissed like it was obvious, gesturing at the couch. “That.”
Bart brushed the bits of wood off his hands, then turned to him, his brows knitting.
“The couch?” Bart glanced at it, then at Jaime again. “Thought you said nothing was wrong with it.”
“There is nothing wrong with it,” Jaime said. “I meant why are you bringing stuff over like you’re gonna sleep out here?”
“Where else would I sleep?”
Jaime looked at him funny. “Where do you think?”
Bart scrunched his face at him. “I’m not making you take the couch, dude. Your back gets moded as it is.”
Jaime’s brows furrowed further. “Well no shit, I don’t want the couch either.”
Bart's exasperation disappeared as he blinked, at a loss. “So, what then? You think the floor would be better?”
“What? No,” Jaime dismissed again. “Why would we split up? It’s a queen-size mattress. Unless you plan to starfish out on it, we’ll both fit.”
“Oh,” Bart squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Nahreallythat’sokay. I’d feel bad if I kept you up.”
Jaime raised a brow in amusement. “Since when?”
Jaime had a guest room at his house. It was mainly used by family, but Tye had stayed there a lot too, once he and Jaime had started to think of themselves as too old to sleep in the same bed. In all the million times Bart had slept over though, he’d never once used it. Even if it meant sleeping on an air mattress, Bart always preferred staying close to Jaime.
Bart opened his mouth and closed it again, as if unable to come up with a convincing argument. Then, even stranger, he glanced away and pushed his hair out of his face.
What was with him all of a sudden?
“What?” Bart asked self-consciously under Jaime’s stare. Jaime shook his head, perplexed.
“Did you get body-snatched while you were in the bathroom or something?” he joked. “Is that what was taking so long in there?”
“What? ” Bart asked, the word a burst-out laugh.
Jaime tsked, squishing Bart’s face between his thumb and forefinger and making a show of peering at him with suspicion. “Nuh uh, don’t give me that. You really think I can't tell?”
“What are you even talking about right now?” Bart laughed, trying to tug Jaime’s hand away with both of his.
“You. You’re acting suspicious.”
“By doing what? ” Bart said indignantly, prying Jaime’s fingers away. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“Yeah, on the couch,” Jaime rolled his eyes, gesturing again.
“How is that suspicious?”
“Because the real Bart is half-barnacle,” Jaime said matter-of-factly. “Normally he goes out of his way to find an excuse like this to get me to cuddle him.”
Bart spluttered. “I do not!”
“Well, evidentemente, ese,” Jaime said as if Bart was being slow on the uptake, “that’s ‘cause you’re the fake.”
Bart grabbed the pillow he’d brought to the couch and whacked him. Jaime caught hold of it with a grin.
It probably shouldn’t bring him so much satisfaction, teasing Bart until he got annoyed enough to pout at him like that. Bart existed to pester Jaime though, so as far as he was concerned, he’d earned the right to balance the scales every now and again.
“I do not.” Bart repeated, ears red at the tips as he folded his arms.
Jaime smirked fondly at him. “Yes you do. You haven’t left me alone since the day I met you.”
The red on Bart’s ears spread to his cheeks, his narrowed eyes an almost perfect imitation of Annoyed Tim. Jaime shook his head again.
“Come on,” he said, scooping up Bart’s blanket and heading back toward the bedroom. “Quit being weird or I’m letting Khaji scan you.”
Bart dragged his feet but followed him. Both his pout and the red on his ears lingered even after they’d finished putting the sheets on the bed. Then he made a show of lying down on the edge of it with his back to Jaime, about as far away as he could.
Jaime couldn’t help but feel a little exasperated by that. Bart had a big personality, sure, but he wasn’t usually dramatic. He lifted up onto one elbow, reaching across the distance to nudge him.
“Hey,” he murmured. “You know I’m only teasing you, guepardo. Clearly I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bart waved Jaime’s hand away with a sleepy mumble. “Go t’sleep already.”
Jaime studied Bart carefully. His gut still insisted that something was off, even if he wasn’t sure how to explain it. Well, other than that he knew Bart, and for whatever reason, it felt like he was acting particularly un-Bart-ish.
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Night, Jaime.”